Lullaby
by TheMarauderBandit
Summary: "Carry on my wayward son, there'll be peace when you are done. Lay your weary head to rest, don't you cry no more." One-shot!


_Alright, so I've recently gotten into the show Supernatural (just finished up season 2), and to kick off this (soon-to-be) obsession, I decided to write a one-shot! I actually posted this on tumblr, under a post about a lullaby version of "Carry On My Wayward Son". I took some advice from a friend, though, and decided to publish it on here! Hope you enjoy, and buon divertimento!_

_**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything you recognize!_

_~Bandit_

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Lullaby

The faintest traces of a sigh fell from the man's lips as he leaned back in the chair, running a hand through his hair, as he cradled the phone between his neck and his ear. "Yeah, the wife's good. She said she was going to go play with Johnny, heard him crying or something."

_"Yeah? How is that kid?"_ Dean couldn't help but give a light laugh at the sound of a smile on his brother's lips, even from across the United States.

He fiddled with the fabric of the arm chair he was relaxed in, "Turned six months today. It's amazing how time flies, isn't it, Sam?"

Who would've thought he'd be sitting in his normal house, with his normal wife and kid, having a normal conversation with his (not-so) normal brother?

"_No kidding_," there was a slight pause of awkward breathing, where Dean just sat there, and thought.

He couldn't reply; before his eyes flashed memories of trips, the rumble of an engine down heat-spotted roads. Gravel clashing under tires, and the sound of a gunshot echoing in an empty basement. Blood stains splattered the walls, and yet there always seemed to be a smile there, lighting the darkness, as though to say: _Yeah, we made it again. Barely._

Leaning back in his chair, Dean let his eyes flicker towards the window next to him, showing the night sky, like a picture of a frame, stars twinkling merrily, like they were laughing at him over something. "So how's college, kid?"

"_Oh, you know. It's not so bad now that I'm used to it._" The elder chuckled lightly; he could still remember those countless nights over the past years, receiving phone calls for desperate help on homework the younger couldn't tackle. He had no trouble shooting down the world's most dangerous demons, and yet assignments seemed to leave him at a complete loss. "_The freshmen girls are pretty nice, too. Once you get to know 'em._"

"Ahh, that's my boy!" A grin graced his lips, as he shifted the phone to the other hand. The beaming expression seemed to instantly melt away at the sound of a piercing cry, followed by the kid's wail. Holding the bridge of his nose, Dean gave a groan. "Johnny's still making a fuss, dunno what happened to Jen. Probably gave up, expecting me to take care of it."

That earned a laugh from his little brother. "_Guess that means you're leaving me, huh? Jerk_."

Even he couldn't resist. It'd been 13 (or something like that, he'd lost count) years since they'd started their road trips, and he'd never forget. "Yeah, yeah, whatever, bitch. Look, happy birthday, Sammy. Good luck on that bar exam thing, alright?"

Another light chuckle sounded from the end of the phone, followed by a faint click, and not another word. Snapping his phone shut, Dean shoved the device back into his pocket, preparing to stand up to go check on his little boy. It was then that the crying stopped, and the house was filled with dead silence. Knitting his eyebrows, the man had half a mind to stand up and go check if everything was alright, but he knew Jen would've handled it perfectly. Tempted to call back his brother, he shook his head.

Minutes passed, and the night grew longer, until finally, he couldn't hold onto the world any longer, deciding now would be a good as time as any, he left his eyes drift shut, his head loll to the side, his consciousness dripping away, like a faucet, soon to be followed by a deep ocean. But, though Dean didn't know it, his awareness wasn't the only thing dripping. Down the hallway, to the left, and into the blue painted door, there was a crib. It was dark in the room, and the crib was silent, as a small child looked up curiously towards the ceiling, where his mommy was lying silently, tears welling in her eyes. Blood trickled towards his peaceful face. And for Jonathon Samuel Winchester, things would never be the same again.

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**A/N: Please review! They make me warm & fuzzy on the inside. Also, let me know if this idea has ever been done before, I wouldn't know, considering I'm a complete newbie. Thanks for reading!**


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